


And You Will Have My Love to Keep You Warm

by fuladaris



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Rough Kissing, Valentine's Day, although the song is ‘my love will keep me warm’ I believe, ella fitzgerald sings it!, it's not inspired by the song but i realized after i wrote this, that there's a song lyric like that, title from a song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29279730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuladaris/pseuds/fuladaris
Summary: Augustine isn't sure if he's a hopeless romantic, or if he's just hopeless. If you were to ask Lysandre, though, he'd pronounce the professor as "hopelessly endearing," especially on Valentine's Day, when Augustine comes out with the sweetest, silliest sentiments possible, and Lysandre is left with no choice but to return the favor.
Relationships: Fleur-de-lis | Lysandre/Platane-hakase | Professor Augustine Sycamore
Kudos: 22





	And You Will Have My Love to Keep You Warm

**Author's Note:**

> I posted a link to this on my tumblr, but the content of this fic is AO3 exclusive! Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! Sorry if this ends a bit abruptly; the direction I wanted this to go in was not working, but I still wanted to post something for these two on Valentine's Day, so! Here it is!
> 
> (Hopefully the layout of the labs that I use makes sense - the elevator behind the bookcase in the cafe takes you to the Flare labs of Lysandre Labs, while there's a civilian entrance which goes to the public face of the labs. That's where Augustine and Lysandre went.)
> 
> I hope you enjoy <3

To say Augustine was a hopeless romantic would have been an understatement - but, well, he didn't think anyone could _blame_ him for decorating his office with hearts and shoving chocolate at all of his assistants and students, as he was nothing if not utterly, hopelessly, in love. And, as Lysandre was the _reason_ behind why he was filled to _bursting_ with affection, there was little question that Valentine's Day would need to be perfect for _Lysandre_ in particular.

This was why the professor had spent the better part of three months learning how to knit, because, as he'd told his Delphox on several different occasions, "I found this very soft and pretty red yarn at the store, and it gets cold here, so I want to give him something homemade that will keep him warm and make him think of me always!"

(Goupil, the Delphox in question, probably could have easily magicked up a scarf of some kind, or at least helped Augustine knit one in less time, but he knew better than to actually _try_ , for Augustine's sentimental heart would likely be wracked with guilt if the scarf presented to Lysandre was anything less than something that had been made entirely by the professor's own hands. ~~Even if it took several tries, and more yarn than Goupil felt was necessary, to complete.~~ )

Still, though, Augustine had done it in the end, and the final product was actually pretty impressive, for a first time at knitting. The scarf was just as soft as Augustine had hoped it would be, too, which was why he was glowing with pure glee and energy as he burst into Lysandre Cafe and ran right up to Lysandre himself.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" he chirps, face split ear to ear in a happy grin as he carefully wraps the scarf around his partner's neck. "I made you this! Now you won't ever get cold again, because you will have my love to keep you warm."

Some may have found that kind of line to be hopelessly cheesy, but to Augustine, it was nothing if not the truth, and it was _because_ it was so truthful that it brought a small smile to Lysandre's face, as well - not that Augustine could _see_ that smile right now, of course, given how high up on Lysandre’s face the scarf was presently sitting. Fortunately, this was very quickly rectified by Augustine adjusting it and then tugging his partner down, busying himself with the _very important task_ of pressing kisses all over Lysandre's face, the older man returning as many as he could in between laughs.

"Happy Valentine's Day to you, too," Lysandre says, reaching up to touch the professor's chin and tilt his head up, both so he could get a moment's reprieve from the kisses and so he could admire his partner's handsome, shining face. "It's a lovely scarf, _mon cher_. I shall treasure it always."

(He could see that he'd been gifted some chocolates and wine, too, for the professor's Delphox had delicately set them on the counter while Augustine kissed him.)

"Ah, it looks so handsome on you. I always know best, don't I?" Augustine asks, lacing his hands with Lysandre's, and oh, how clear it is, that he is hopelessly, utterly, smitten. "I took the next couple of days off, just for you. You did, too, right? So we can go out? Please?"

Lysandre chuckles warmly. "Yes, of course I did. I know how much this holiday means to you. How rude of me it would be, to deny you the attentions you so crave..." He brings one of Augustine's hands to his lips and leaves a kiss there, on the back of it, smiling against his skin as a flush rises in the professor's cheeks. "Before that, though - I have a gift for you in my office,” he murmurs, kissing that delicate hand again before letting it go. “Care to accompany me?"

"Ah, and why would I not, hmm?" Augustine purrs, taking his partner's arm in his, leaning up to nuzzle his nose against Lysandre's, grinning so broadly that Lysandre can practically see little cartoon hearts floating above his head. "If you think I am going to spend a single minute away from you, you are quite mistaken."

"Good boy," Lysandre teases, and before they turn to leave, he decides to let out his Pyroar, the lion immediately lifting its big head to nuzzle Augustine's palm in greeting before turning to rub against Goupil, too. "Soleil, why don't you and Goupil stay down here with the wine and chocolates, please - which look almost as lovely as this scarf, by the way, Gus, I just don't want to carry it all back and forth - while the professor and I go up to my labs for a moment. I'm sure you two want to catch up, at any rate."

The two Pokemon chirrup in agreement before they begin conversing with each other, and Lysandre and Augustine take that as their sign to abscond upstairs, taking the civilian elevator down to Lysandre Labs, all the way to Lysandre's office.

At some point in the long elevator ride, the two men begin to kiss, tenderly at first, Augustine's fingers tangling in the threads of the scarf as he tugs Lysandre down for deeper and deeper kisses.

"What'd you get me, huh?" Augustine half-murmurs, half-demands, and he moans lightly as Lysandre's hands snake around his waist and squeeze his hips. 

"So impatient," Lysandre growls. "Then again, you're always so _demanding_ with me...My sweet, greedy thing..."

"I'm not greedy," Augustine whines, and his tone gets more indignant as Lysandre laughs. "I'm not!"

"No, no, you're not. You're just eager, yes?"

"Oh, yes..."

Lysandre smirks, as the elevator doors slide open. "Then let's go see, shall we?"

He leads his partner down the hall, unlocking his office and gesturing for the other man to enter ahead of him. "Your present is on the desk, _mon cher_."

Augustine runs over to it in turn, eyes sparkling as he takes in the large bouquet of flowers and the _stunning_ blue coat that was neatly folded next to them. While he squeals over them, sheds his lab coat and tries the new coat on, gushes about how _beautiful_ it is, Lysandre - his smirk softening into a smile - closes the door behind them. 

While the professor alternates between modeling his new coat for himself and trying to identify all of the flowers, Lysandre removes the scarf Augustine had given him and admires it, hands stroking down it with the tenderest, tenderest care. It was a precious gift, a precious gift from his lovely, perfect, _beautiful_ Augustine, and to mistreat it would be to do his love a grave, grave dishonor. After all, it was handmade, was it not? Unlike the coat he had gotten for his partner, this scarf was the product of Augustine's labor, a sign of his ceaseless devotion and attempts to make them work, no matter how difficult Lysandre could be, sometimes-

Reverently, he takes the end of the scarf in his hands and presses it to his lips, his mouth further crinkling into a smile.

Augustine, who had spun around to further gush about how much he loved the coat in particular, pauses when he sees the soft, delicate care with which Lysandre is treating the scarf. Lysandre was not a man known for being emotional, and usually stayed reserved and distant even when talking to Augustine, the one individual with whom he was most open. To see him smiling so tenderly, so gently - it was a rare expression, and Augustine's own face breaks out into a sweet, loving smile at the sight of it.

He crosses the room, pulling Lysandre into his arms. "You really love that scarf, don't you?"

"More than the scarf, I love _you_ ," Lysandre murmurs, and he presses a soft kiss to Augustine's forehead. "I love _you_ , so very much."

"I love you, too," Augustine whispers back, and Lysandre sets the scarf on the coatrack before turning to draw his partner up into another kiss, feelings of gentleness, tenderness, _adoration_ pouring off of Augustine in waves as he returns it. What a beautiful man, his Augustine is, so passionate, so warm, so kind, a loving, beautiful soul, a unique soul, something Lysandre seldom ever saw in humanity, anymore. To think that this cruel world was one which harmed and sullied such beauty, made it ugly and disturbed and warped -

He could not allow that to happen to his Augustine. He could not.

As Lysandre reflects on this, his further kisses turn into something fierce, something passionate, all lips and teeth and tongue, and Augustine moans into Lysandre's mouth, returning them, clutching desperately-. 

"Augustine," Lysandre growls, " _Augustine_."

"Oh, Lysandre- Ah-"

Lysandre dips his head down, teeth scraping over the professor's pulse point, just the way Augustine likes it, and Augustine moans again, pretty sounds that make Lysandre throb with desire.

He’s the only one who has access to the cameras in his office, simply hitting a panic button under the desk if he needs a guard (not that he ever has, of course, but it was better safe than sorry) - He could easily push this further, and only he and Augustine would ever know -

The idea is tempting, and he almost reaches over to lock the door - but then he remembers their Pokémon upstairs waiting for them, and how a prolonged absence would make what they were doing not as secret as he’d hoped- and so he tries to restrain himself, stepping back before he can lose himself entirely in his partner's beauty.

"You said you wanted your love to keep me warm, correct? Well, it seems I had the same thought." 

"It seems so!" Augustine adds with a laugh, clearly a little heady from the passionate kissing, but he's smiling regardless, a smile that Lysandre longs to capture and put in a museum. "G-Go put your scarf back on, and let's-“ He swallows, thickly. “- g-go back up, yes?”

"Sure," Lysandre purrs, a bit pleased at how easy it is to undo the other man, even with just his kisses. "And you go get your flowers. Don’t leave your old coat here, either."

Augustine obediently scampers off to grab the rest of his belongings, and when he returns to Lysandre's side, Lysandre snakes a hand around his waist. Once they’ve left the office and stepped into the elevator, Lysandre nonchalantly adds, hoping to fluster him further, "Oh, and by the way, Augustine - there are other ways my love can warm you up, too. I will gladly show them to you, when we return to my estates..."

And on that elevator ride back up, Lysandre takes the opportunity to whisper _exactly_ what he intends to do to him in his ear. The poor professor is as red as Lysandre's scarf, by the time they make it back to the cafe, and Lysandre decides the color suits Augustine just as nicely as blue does.


End file.
